The Taste of Leather
by Precious Pup
Summary: How the hell do I describe this one? McGee explaining his relationship and fascination with leather. Different endings/pairings depending on response. McAbby/McNozzo/McGiva/McGibbs
1. Chapter 1

He had always liked the taste of leather

He had always liked the taste of leather. He had no memory of the first time he had tasted it. He was probably still a child but the memory was still there so that when as an adult he had licked the salty leather bound around her it hadn't seemed unusual at all.

It had simply seemed familiar. The process of curing the soft leather plus the warmth of her skin and the salt of her flesh. There had been no surprise, no panic only the sensation that he had done this before. No nervousness just the desire for more. The touch, the taste, the smell, the sight of her bouncing breasts strapped tight inside the leather corset as he thrust into her.

She had made leather fun. It wasn't scary or threatening. It was fun and sexy and hot. The leather she wore was as likely to be teamed with skimpy tartan as it was with metal cinches. Leather wasn't something to be afraid of. It became something to be revered. The way it took on life and warmth and movement when worn so close. It could be shaped and stretched and feel as soft and smooth as his silky hands or as tough and unyielding as Gibbs wood roughened calluses.

Leather always had been cool but she also made it _hot_. The studded leather rings she wore around her fingers made him ache when he saw them as he alone of the men in the room knew what they felt like when wrapped around him. The rounded tips of the cool metal studs rhythmically dragging against his most sensitive flesh. Her pale nimble fingers matching his speed across the keyboard. Sometimes he would allow himself just to watch them and remember what they had once done to him.

There came a time when he was confident enough to wear leather himself. To work. His jacket was beautiful, expensive but so soft it put butter to shame. He felt amazing in it and for an instant he felt that perhaps _his_ leather would be the one to entice someone out of their shell. And they too would just have to touch. To touch him. To feel the overwhelming need to run their hands across the soft leather, to run their hands across his shoulders and to dip their heads to taste where the collar touched his skin.

It seemed to survive mere minutes before being potentially irradiated and the next thing he knew it had been returned to him, ruined. He couldn't explain his grief at his jackets treatment, especially not to her as she had been the wielder of the very scalpel that had cut into it. It wasn't the cost of the jacket now ruined that kept him awake that night. It had been a symbol to him of all that had changed. Of all that he had now become since his years starting with the team. He daren't have worn leather in his first years with the team. In those years he had barely got out of wearing a suit and tie day in, day out in an effort to seem older, to be taken seriously as an agent.

Something changed for him then. She wore the leather but she did not revere it like he did. She enjoyed it but it was no more special than her wild tight inappropriate T shirts or her platform boots. She enjoyed the clinking of metal chains as much as she reveled in the sensation of leather against her skin.

When Tony meet them all for a drink after work one day he was wearing something he had never noticed before. A leather jacket. He itched to run his hands over it, to feel the soft yielding warmth over Tony's familiar frame. Tony's grin was broad and bright and Tim felt dazzled by it.

When he lay awake that night he wasn't sure if it was again the sensation of the leather under his sensitive fingertips that he ached for or the sensation of Tony being somewhere underneath the leather. Tony, his friend and tormenter being underneath his daring fingers. His fingers made daring by the intoxicating scent of the leather mixed with Tony's cologne.

The taste of the leather made warm against heated skin. The taste of Tony made warm by his own nimble fingers.

_Version One ending_

But then no. Tony would laugh and tease him as he always did to cover up his own embarrassment. His own awkwardness at it being Tim who was running his hands over him, slipping his hands over his shoulders and pushing the leather jacket off to fall on the floor. He would want to know what Tim was planning on doing to him. How could he tell him that when he honestly didn't know himself? He would insist that his leather jacket was better than his. That his everything was better than Tim's. He would talk constantly……… Tim knew him too well. There was no mystery in how Tony would treat him.

No that would never do.

Tim lay alone in the dark on his satin sheets and marveled at the lure of Abby's leather that he would even consider such daring ideas.


	2. Ziva

ZIVA

**ZIVA**

It was at work the next day when Ziva, Tony and himself were in the elevator discussing the previous night that Ziva asked what had happened to his leather jacket.

"Where you able to get it repaired? I hope you could as it really was beautiful. I think it suited you. You should wear leather more often." She smiled at him and his eyes drifted down to the black high heeled leather boots she was wearing underneath her sensible trousers.

Tim smiled and wondered if Ziva would enjoy the sensation of the cool soft leather seats of his Porsche against her hot bare skin.

There wasn't a lot of room in the sleak car but he had found that it added to the tension. It was a bit like being tied up, your movements were restricted and the additional frustration from not being able to touch and feel what you wanted when you needed it could actually heighten the sensation and certainly lengthen the experience.

Tim privately gloried in the smell of car sex. In the smell of sex in _his_ car. Being enclosed in the small space surrounded by the intoxicating smell of the soft expensive leather and the musky scent of sex and the rising, driving heat. The soft moans and the steamed up windows as he struggled for even deeper penetration. His head falling back, straining against the head rest as he clawed at her thighs, wanting more of her silky heat.

There was always the risk of being discovered which just added to the excitement. Who would think of Timothy McGee being arrested for indecent exposure? No one. Just like they thought he kept tissues in the glove compartment because he was a neat freak not because they were almost essential to a possible repeat performance.

Ziva could wear her leather boots... and nothing else. Her thick black hair tumbling wild over her sweaty shoulders, clinging to her back as she tensed and rose again. Her soft crys muffled by his desperate kisses.

Tim found himself licking his lips as he allowed Ziva to step out of the elevator first and he followed her watching her ass move under her fitted pants as she strode to her desk.

Then with a sigh and a last look at Ziva he sat at his own desk and opened his email.


	3. Gibbs

Tim watched with eager eyes as Gibbs sunk into a squat beside him and picked up the binoculars

Tim watched with eager eyes as Gibbs sunk into a squat beside him and picked up the binoculars. Tim's eyes lingered a little too long on how snugly the jeans fit Gibbs' ass before he raised his expressive eyes again and gave a whispered report on the activities of the warehouse they were watching. The warm air of his mouth turned white in the freezing cold night air and Tim was sure the end of his nose and the tips of his ears had actually frozen solid an hour beforehand.

Gibbs nodded and without turning reached into his thick jacket and pulled out a hip flask and handed it to Tim. Tim paused for a split second before he tore off his glove and reached for the battered leather flask. As his hand closed around it he felt a thrill run through him. The leather encasing the cool metal, battered and scratched from doing its job of protecting the flask was _warm_. Warm from being held against Gibbs flesh. Warm and salty from being held against the naked body of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

With a quick glance in Gibbs direction Tim twisted off the top and lifted the flask to his lips. It smelled warm, of leather and saw dust and Gibbs. The hot liquor spilled into his eager mouth through the metallic tasting cold opening. Heat flooded through him that had nothing to do with the mouthful of Jack Daniels that swirled around his mouth and disappeared down his throat. He swallowed carefully and felt the muscles in his throat constrict and move and leave his mouth and sensitive full lips aching for more.

Tim shivered as longing for warmth swept his body and the violence of it was enough to almost unbalance his stiff crouch. Gibbs turned and grabbed his forearm firmly through his thick padded jacket, holding him for a moment, steadying him before releasing him once again to the cold night air.

"Better?" Gibbs asked quietly as he turned to him, his blue eyes smiling, and the skin around his eyes crinkling up in amusement.

Tim didn't trust himself to speak so he just nodded and licked his lips, tasting the Jack Daniels as he crouched in the cold darkness mere inches away from the man he would willingly follow into death.

"Good. You better keep it then for a while. Looks like it's going to be a long cold night out here." And like that Gibbs stood and with a comforting pat on the knee in the dark he was gone. Off to check on his other charges scattered throughout the dark.

Tim alone again took a fierce swig on the flask, blinking rapidly and then sucked the chill air into his warm mouth to feel the contrast in sensation on his tongue. Then he carefully tucked the leather encased flask away under his jacket. Next to his skin. Where it could warm him.


End file.
